Legends VS. Facts
Posted on 17. Mar, 2009 by Deb in On Writing, On a Jet Plane, Paying the Bills, The Girl
Today, I made the drive to Waxahachie. I drove around the town square, and saw that little has changed since the 1970′s. I was wishing for light and my camera, but those can wait. It was not quite 6 AM when I drove through, too dark for photographs and besides, I had places I needed to be. I have always loved the courthouse, which was built in 1897. It’s a grand structure. If you’ve seen the movie Places in the Heart, you would have seen the town square.
My aunt is in the hospital there, and that was the reason for the trip. It’s been over a year since I’ve taken the drive there, I guess we all get lost in work and life and fail to visit quaint towns that we used to visit. and I wanted to allow my cousins to take a break since she needs someone with her the full time she is there and my cousins as well as a second cousin are taking shifts. I went early, so that my second cousin, covering the overnight shift, could head on home for some sleep. She is doing better, my aunt, so that is good. But the drive as well as the town of Waxahachie brought a flood of childhood memories to me. My grandmother, as well as two sets of aunts and uncles lived in Waxahachie, the town my mother was from.
I was the youngest grandchild on that side of the family. The closest in age to me was my cousin John, who is five years my senior. Five years is nothing when you are 41, but it’s a lifetime when you are 6. My cousins were having children long before I had my first bra. I got to stay with my grandmother more than any of the other ten grandchildren, simply do to the chronology. Grandmother was a seamstress for the Haggar Pant company, but was retired by the time I was three.
I was always fascinated with the courthouse. If you walk around the structure, you cannot help but notice the gargoyles. The legend is this: a German mason by the name of Harry Herley came to town to help with the courthouse. He stayed at a boarding house while he worked, and fell in love with the beautiful Mabel. He took that love and began the carvings of her as a tribute to his love. But Mabel spurned his advances, and as time passed, he became bitter and the carvings became uglier and more grotesque until the 12th carving you see is a twisted demon.
I believe I heard that story for the first time when I was five or six. I never tired of hearing it and never tired of looking for the carved faces that looked down upon passersby and stood guard. The artistic representation of such a tale fascinated me. There is passion in art, whether it born of love or of pain.
Beyond the names of the parties, Henry and Mabel, historians say there is no fact in the legend. They say that it’s likely traditional European Characters, such as “the green man” and a child and a demented character. And that the faces were likely not carved by Henry, but commissioned from Dallas and shipped to Waxahachie for installation. I know that history requires we look at fact, but I am a romantic at heart and prefer to the legend of Mabel and Henry over the facts.
No matter what is happening in your life, I hope you have the opportunity to take a sidetrip to something memorable from your past. It’s Spring and a good time for road trips and indulging in legends.